


Inescapable

by kola21



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Headcanon, M/M, One Shot, Sadstuck, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2642039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kola21/pseuds/kola21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cronus Ampora walked through into another dream bubble lazily; he had been wandering through these things for sweeps and sweeps, but he was surprised to find himself in a place he had never seen before. It was not like any place on Beforus that <em>he’d</em> seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inescapable

Cronus Ampora walked through into another dream bubble lazily; he had been wandering through these things for sweeps and sweeps, but he was surprised to find himself in a place he had never seen before. It was not like any place on Beforus that _he’d_ seen. And it didn’t seem like any of the worlds in his game session, although he’d admit he didn’t visit all of them. Cronus explored the unfamiliar land curiously, adding to himself that maybe he’d find someone who was willing to have sloppy make-outs with him. Though, he doubted he would find anyone here with all the thick purple fog hanging in the air. He could hardly see anything past his immediate arm length now, and he was starting to get a little uneasy about all this. Maybe he should turn around and head back. But, as he turned, he realized he didn’t know which way he came from, and that it’d be impossible to try to find his way back. Looks like he was just going to have to walk around until he found another dream bubble to escape into. At least he wasn't burdened with having to sleep or eat now. Sighing a little, Cronus began his long trek back to somewhere familiar. The land under his feet was hard and smooth like marble, but as black as obsidian.

After about an hour, Cronus was getting fed up with all this nonsense. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to go, but doing anything was better than this. Suddenly, through the purple fog, Cronus saw a large black object protruding from the ground. A little hopeful, he ran up to it, and realized as he approached that it was a hive. Giving a look of mild astonishment, which was the seadweller raising his eyebrows and sticking his hands in his pockets, he looked it over. Again, nothing he recognized. Cronus took the hive's doorknob, opening it slowly. The sight that met him brought a mixture of surprise and curiosity. The walls of the hive were a clean white, not like most trolls hives, even on Beforus. The floor was covered in a dark hardwood, which is to mean it was gentle navy blue. The strange hive was furnished lightly with a couple tables, and pictures, but other than that it was pretty barren. The only thing that seemed out of place was a picture frame laying face down on the ground. As Cronus bent over, picking it up ever so lightly, the shattered glass fell out of the front, leaving just a frame with a picture of a young-looking Latula.

Huh. Strange. She looked to be younger than 6 sweeps; this must've been before they started the game. But Cronus was sure this couldn't be Latula's hive, this place was way too clean and un-'r4d'. Placing the picture frame on a table, Cronus stepped carefully over the glass, deciding to check the other pictures. On one of the walls there was a picture of a crab lusii. Cronus fiddled with the cigarette in his mouth. Was this Kankri's house? It would make sense, he decided. Cronus slipped through the hive, glancing around and inspecting the place visually. The place was almost too clean, albeit for the broken photograph. All the walls were a stalk white, every floor covered in the same blue wood. It felt unnatural, like no one even lived here at all. Cronus wondered how Kankri could even live in a place like this, but then he remembered it was _Kankri_ and he was probably comfortable in a clean space, even if this 'clean space' felt uncomfortably sterile. Soon he found himself back at the door, ready to get out of this pristine-to-the-max hive. However, as he glanced around one last time, hand on the doorknob, he spotted something he hadn't seen when he first entered. There was a door in the corner of the room, completely white and flat as if it was a part of the wall. The doorknob was even white! The only thing that alerted him to it was a splotch of dark on the knob. Cronus slinked over to it, wondering what could be behind this door. Perhaps a secret? A shrine? A kink closet? Cronus smirked as he thought about it.

Slowly the seadweller wrapped a hand around the knob, but not before he inspected the dark spot. It was purple and dried, but it looked like it had been there a long time. An unsettling feeling clutched at his stomach as he recalled the sight of his own dried blood. Is that... what it was? Cronus pushed through his uneasiness, and pulled the door open. A newspaper, caught in the suction of the door as it was pulled, swept past his ankles, and he finally took in the area around him. Cronus was met by a steep flight of stairs through a very narrow hallway; even if he looked up, he could only barely see the second floor's ceiling. Though, he had enough to look at even without the second floor. The wall on each side of the stairs was presumably white, but Cronus couldn’t see it. It was covered in a mess of newspaper clippings and magazine cut-outs, lining the walls from floor to ceiling.  Every stair step had at least one article on it, and each article he could spot had some markings on it somewhere. There were underlines, boxes, brackets, comments, side notes, but all in all, Cronus couldn't make head or tails of the whole situation. There were odder things too, doodles and drawings here and there among the articles, some were bad, and some were quite good. Slowly the purple-blood crept up the stairs, eyes travelling over the collage of paper. As he reached the top of the stairs, he found something very peculiar. A blank piece of wall. For some reason, Cronus felt something should’ve gone there. Something was off with that blank wall. Yet it was quickly brushed aside as Cronus turned to scan the room at the top of the stairs. What first caught his eye wasn’t the absurd disaster the place was, nor was it the copious quantity of writing/drawing utensils that were scattered on the floor, but a wooden papasan chair with bright red upholstery facing towards the opposite side of the room, with the tips of two horns pointing out over the top. Cronus couldn't tell who it was because either they were very short, or they were letting themselves sink back into the chair. But since this was Kankri’s house, it was obviously Kankri. The Ampora grinned a bit, sidling toward the chair, some pens clicking and snapping under his feet.

“Hey there, chief,” he said smoothly, “what are you doin’ up here all alone?” The horns shifted slightly, but there was no reply.

“Didn’t realize you could make such a mess.”

 The seadweller stopped about three feet from the chair, stuffing his hands in his pockets, letting his thumbs hang out, and looking thoroughly cocky. A sniffle. Cronus paused for a moment, stiffened, was Kankri crying?

"Hey, what's with the waterworks?" Again, no reply.

"Didn't know you were into that," he joked, but for the third time the troll made no reply and proceeded to ignore him. What was with him today?? Well, no matter, maybe he could comfort him. Come to his rescue. His knight in shining armor, of sorts. Slowly Cronus walked toward the chair, being careful not to step on anything that could make him trip and lose his cool.

"Give the tears a rest, pal. I'm here for you.” Cronus grabbed the side of the papasan chair, peeking around it. The someone that turned to him, face streaked with colored tears, eyes wide and as white as death, was not Kankri, but himself. Another Cronus stared back at him, purple-tinted tears staining his white shirt, looking so defeated and pathetic, the alpha-timeline Cronus wasn't sure what to say at first. His unused cigarette fell from his mouth, and he took a step back, hearing the crack of something under his feet. He wasn’t sure what to say at first, watching himself. It wasn’t like he hadn’t met other Cronus’ before, the dream bubbles were riddled with them, but never had he seen one as utterly torn apart and emotional as this one. The face was ugly, contorted and drained, but unmistakably his own. The other Cronus just stared through him, eyes full of purple, unseeing.

“Wh…” the Alpha Cronus began to whisper, but his voice caught in his throat. His eyes scanned the face, watched it. This couldn’t be him, this didn’t look like him, this wasn’t him… but it was. And Cronus knew it was. He knew it down to his every dead fiber, his heart knew it was too, but his eyes, his fins, his mind didn’t want to accept it. The Cronus turned back to the desk, trying to stop the flowing of the tears for a moment.

“Why couldn’t you save him…” he murmured, voice trembling and bitter. The Alpha-timeline Cronus blinked several times, watching him, unsure if he had heard the right thing. What on Beforus was this Cronus talking about? Nothing made any sense.

“Why weren’t you there?” he muttered again, voice stronger now, but also somehow more broken.

“Save… who?” The original Ampora asked, unsure if he wanted the answer, but felt he had to ask.

“Vantas,” came the curt answer, Cronus’ own accent being spat at him through that one single word.

“What, Kankri?” Cronus wondered, frowning slightly, “What happened to him in your timeline?”

Suddenly, the doomed Cronus jumped up, angry, fuming, despair swimming through his eyes, “Don’t blame _me_ for this, nosebleed!” he barked, giving his other self a shove.

“I ain’t blamin’ anyone for _anythin’_ , bub!” Cronus said back, his temper getting more and more heated.

The Alpha Cronus grinned maliciously, “Don’t tell me you were flushed for our little mutant-blood? Is that what's got your fins cramped? What,” he let out a cruel laugh, “did you get clanked?”

The doomed Cronus’ face burned in anger, fins flaring out from each side of his face, and he served his other self a freshly-made knuckle sandwich, squarely on his nose. The Alpha-timeline seadweller fell to the floor, crashing onto the ground. Loose papers flew up into the air, and there was so many, it temporarily obscured both Cronus’ visions. The original Cronus found himself on the floor, a tickling feeling on his upper lip. He instinctually wiped his face on the back of his hand, and found himself to be bleeding. Swearing, he pushed himself up off the ground.

“Fuck you, where do you get bein’ all high-and-mighty! It’s not like you have any a’ your quadrants filled, buck-o!”

“Oh, and you do? You know as well as I that we’re complete fuck-ups at relationships!”

“I…” the doomed Cronus faltered a little, “I…”

The Alpha Cronus sneered, still sour from that punch in the face, feeling the purple blood trickling down his lip once more.

“So you _were_ clanked!” he said, but even with the malice he felt toward his other self, by seeing his face so broken and tear-stained, he didn’t really mean the words coming out of his mouth.

“A’ course my other self has to be such a pathetic loser, really shows how the Alpha timeline is the best one. Thank you for clearin’ that up, friend.”

“Fuck off!” started the other Cronus, bucking forward like he was going to strangle his Alpha self but then containing it and slinking back to the papasan.

“It ain’t like you’d understand anyway,” he said, giving a hic.

Cronus almost felt bad, but he ignored it. Who the hell did this Cronus think he was, yelling at him like that?

“Geez, I can’t believe a clone a’ me is such a mess. You know, I’m pretty hot when I’m angry,” he waggled his eyebrows, giving a smirk toward his other self.

The doomed Cronus, in return, gave a cold, hard laugh. A laugh that one might associate with a heavy rain of liquid nitrogen. It was so cold, in fact, that it burned the cool facade right off the Alpha Cronus, and sent a icy shiver all over his body as his skin beaded with bitter shame.

"You and I are the lowest scum in the entire network of the dreambubbles," the sitting Cronus said dryly. The Alpha Cronus couldn't respond. Somewhere in his core, he found it to be an unmistakable truth, and he couldn't bring himself to find the will to keep up his facade, if that's what it was.

"What happened," the Alpha Cronus said in a seriousness that he didn't expect from himself.

"...You," the other Cronus paused, his throat beginning to sting again,

"...No..." It sounded like this was hard for the other Cronus,

"...No, I... I couldn't save Vantas from," he choked, letting out a sharp, strident sob.

The other Cronus curled down to his lap, putting his face into his hands, trying to compose himself. His hair wasn't pristinely slicked back like normal, and the Alpha Cronus noticed with a shudder bleeding scratch marks on his arms and scalp where he must have dug his fingernails in.

"Listen, chief, if he died he should be here somewhere? An', I mean, you could always find _another_ Vantas right? Not a problem."

The other ran a hand through his hair, taking a shaky breath, relaxing back into the papasan.

"How do people even like you,"

"Wow, bud, are you tryin' to start a fight again because," attempted the original Cronus, but let his sentence dissolve as he lost the will to be angry at this sad sack.

He let his eyes wander over the room again, wanting to get his mind off of all this negativity. Usually he ignored these feelings but having himself slap him in the face with the questions he typically tried to hide from hurt. It dug in its claws, sitting heavily inside his body. A weight he always carried around, trying to ignore. These things he asked himself every once in a while, when no one was around to keep up his facade; something that would resurface every time the world got quiet. And the worse times were when the world wasn't quiet. When he was trying to hit on someone and the foul words crept into his body.

_How can anyone like you?_

His eyes drifted over the navy blue wood table, his eyes catching on a black and white sketch of... was that, him?

"Woah, that's pretty good, who drew that?" the Alpha Cronus said, leaning forward toward the table to get a better look. The doomed Cronus shot up in his seat, out-stretching his arms to stop his other self,

"Don't touch that."

"You wound me," the Alpha said innocently.

"Who made that?" he asked again, but the other Cronus didn't reply for a moment.

"That's a private matter an' I don't feel like I have to discuss that with you,"

"Man, you know that is the oldest line in the book, don't be difficult an' just tell me,"

The doomed Cronus seemed hesitant for a moment but then gave in,

"Kankri drew it,"

"Damn, I didn't even know he drew,"

"Ice it, he doesn't like people to know."

"Yeah yeah chief, don't worry, I ain't gonna tell anyone, swear on my after-life," he winked.

The doomed Cronus scowled bitterly, turning away from his other self,

"Just get lost already, I get sick just lookin' at you,"

The Alpha Cronus scowled back,

"Like I want to stay here with a wet rag anyway,"

He turned away, crunching on some pens as he made his way back to the stairs. Going down them was much scarier than going up them, as the many papers proposed slipping, and there was no railing to save his ass if he did decide to take a topple. He somehow made it to the bottom, and let himself out of the once secret door. A couple newspapers flew about his ankles but he shut the door behind him, on the papers, on himself, on the reminder of how fucking desperate he was. He attempted to shut out this small chapter of his after-life.

Cronus mused over the drastic change in scenery and how the normally-seen house was so bare. Maybe there was a lot more to Kankri than he actually knew. But, it didn't matter. He shut that out too. It reminded him too much of his own, snivelling, defeated face.

He quickly made his way back outside into the fog, but thankfully this time he didn't have to walk far before he reached another dreambubble. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he pushed himself to escape from his own anxieties.

He saw Meenah walk by a couple yards away, and tried to flash a smile, but a pressure in his chest told him he just wasn't feeling up to it today, and he turned abruptly, travelling down another path of the dreambubbles.

Maybe he'd play some guitar today. But he didn't really feel like that either.

**Author's Note:**

> So this one has some of my headcanons, primarily for Kankri (his whole house/land/room setting and that he is an artist but shows no one, even though he is very good)
> 
> This is a pretty old piece - in it, I wanted to explore Cronus's emotions  
> The context for this is Kankri got killed in a blast from Lord English (it's a REALLY old piece ;;; )
> 
> The first half was beta'd a long time ago.


End file.
